


Hanging the Monkey.

by steeleye



Series: It's Grim Up North. [2]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Action/Adventure, Comedy, Multi, cross over fic, myths and legends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-24 10:21:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4915837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steeleye/pseuds/steeleye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First in the 'Grim Up North' series of stories.</p><p>A murderous, mystical monkey, Buffy borrowing money off Kennedy’s father and Faith playing rugby. Just how grim can it get up north?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Hanging the Monkey.

By Steeleye.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Buffyverse or the myth/folk tale of the ‘Hartlepool Monkey’. I write these stories for fun not profit.

Crossover: The Buffyverse with the story of the Hartlepool Monkey.

Spelling, Grammar and Punctuation; Written in glorious English-English. American and English idioms are used throughout this fic.

Timeline: Post BtVS season 7 (no comics). First in the ‘Grim up North’ series.

Words: Six chapters each of 2500+ words.

Warnings: None.

Summary: Giles said that there was another Hellmouth in Cleveland; they were halfway to Ohio before he’d plucked up the courage to mention that he meant the one in Northern England. Times are hard for Buffy and the Scoobies and as everyone knows, ‘It’s Grim Up North’. 

Story the first features...A murderous, mystical monkey, Buffy borrowing money off Kennedy’s father and Faith playing rugby.

0=0=0=0

**Saltburn-by-the-Sea, Cleveland, England, Autumn, 2003.**

Shivering, Buffy hugged herself as she watched the cold rain run like tear drops down the window pane. Glancing over her shoulder she saw the electric heater mounted on the wall of her little office; it glowed red as it ate up electricity at an alarming rate. Although it seemed fit to melt the wire mesh of its safety screen, Buffy always felt that if she moved more than a few of feet away from its warming glow she’d find herself transported to just a few of miles south of the north pole.

Her window faced out over the North Sea; she could clearly see the waves break on the sandy beach which lay at the eastern end of the old holiday camp where they’d set up ‘Slayer Central’. Buffy wondered idly if it ever got warm enough here for her to actually brave the beach come summer. Did they actually have a summer here? Buffy didn’t know, she hoped they did, surely it couldn’t be like this all year ‘round.

It’d seemed like such a good idea to begin with; the camp was secluded, it had swimming pools and gymnasiums. It had restaurants and kitchens, it had more living accommodation than they’d ever need. Plus it was handy for the Middlesbrough Hellmouth only a few miles further north. Of course there was work that needed to be done. They’d even started on some of it, Buffy’s gaze shifted to the piles of abandoned building materials covered with plastic sheets. Then the money had run out and everything had to be put on hold. A quiet knock on her office door broke into her thoughts, returning to her seat behind her battered old desk Buffy sat down.

“Come in,” she called; the door opened and in walked Rupert Giles, “oh, hi Giles.”

“Morning Buffy,” Giles shut the door behind him and sat down on one of the chairs in front of Buffy’s desk, “you don’t sound too happy to see me.”

“Sorry, Giles,” Buffy favoured him with a tired, thin lipped smile, “I’m tired and fed up and I just know you’ve totally not got any good news to give me.”

“Sorry,” admitted Giles, “I’m afraid I’ve not been able to make any more progress. The old council’s solicitors won’t budge an inch…”

“But Giles!” Buffy stood up angrily and stormed back to look out of the window again, her arms crossed over her chest, “They know I’m the slayer, they know you’re the last surviving member of the council…”

“Buffy,” calmly Giles took off his glasses and started to clean them, “they know you're ‘a’ slayer and as for me and the council,” he paused to sigh sadly. “Well, you know we weren’t exactly bosom friends towards the end there and when has the legal profession ever willingly handed over cash?”

Watching her old mentor, Buffy rested against the back of her chair and smiled, although to be honest she didn’t feel like smiling. It all came down to money, or in this case the lack of it; she’d had such high hopes after Sunnydale had slid into hell. As it was she’d been able to spend precisely two weeks in Italy with her sister. Xander’s trip to Africa had been called off after only a month. Again due to lack of cash plus the inevitable suspicions of people for anything or anyone American.

The only reason Willow and Kennedy’s expedition to South America had been so successful was because Kennedy had managed to get her father to finance it. Buffy frowned as she remembered what Willow had told her about the trip. It’d sounded more like an extended holiday than an urgent mission to contact the surviving members of the council. However, if there was one place in the world that Buffy didn’t have to worry about it was South America; Willow had certainly got things well organised down there.

They’d had to send all the new slayers home to their own countries with instructions to deal with things as best they could. That hadn’t actually been a resounding success either. A couple of girl’s had been killed already, some of the others had simply vanished. The remainder struggled to set up some sort of slayer support system while at the same time earning a living and fighting the forces of darkness. 

Quite honestly, if the First Evil had really wanted to take down the slayer-line and the council it should have just made them file for bankruptcy. Yes, it was all down to money, and the frustrating thing was there was quite a lot of it lying around in council bank accounts. There was also the land that the now blown up council headquarters stood on; prime real estate in the heart of London. The money they could get form the sale of that alone would pay for the refurbishment and alterations they wanted to carry out at the camp.

“Basically, Buffy,” Giles continued as he broke into Buffy’s dark thoughts, “it’s boiled down to a fight between lawyers, and we can’t afford any so we’re, to put it bluntly, screwed.”

“Giles!” Buffy almost laughed at Giles’ un-Giles-like outburst, “Lawyers, eh?”

Giles nodded his head as a shrewd smile crossed Buffy’s face.

“Who do we know,” began Buffy slowly, “who’s rich and has, no doubt, got like loads of lawyers and doesn’t mind helping out destitute slayers?”

Giles thought for a moment, looks of horror and dismay followed each other across his face.

“NO!” he said firmly, “You can’t be thinking of involving Scarpone even more in the running of the organisation.”

“Why not?” Buffy smiled at the look of shock on Giles’ face, “Look it’s perfect, he’s Kennedy’s father, he knows all about what we do. He’s incredibly rich and he’s always been willing to help out before. You said yourself he used to donate large amounts of cash to the old council.”

“Yes,” agreed Giles, “to ensure preferential treatment for his daughter…and have you ever considered where he gets his money from?”

“It’s an Import-Export business, or so Kennedy told me,” Buffy turned to look out of the window so she wouldn’t have to look Giles in the eye.

“Have you ever considered what he imports and exports?” Giles got up and looked out of the window at the wind and rain swept beach, “I tried to find out once but I came up against a brick wall, I don’t…”

“Whatever,” Buffy cut Giles off in mid sentence, “Look, Giles we need help and the father of one of our people might be able to give that help, what’s the alternative?” Buffy looked up into Giles’ face, “In a month, two at most the money runs out. What do we do then? Get jobs at the Double Meat Palace and fight evil on our days off?” Buffy shook her head, “Been there, done that, got the t-shirt, don’t want to do it again.”

“Please, Buffy,” pleaded Giles, he sighed knowing that he’d already lost the argument; Buffy had made up her mind, “Be careful what you agree to with that man. He didn’t become a multi-millionaire by being stupid.”

“There,” Buffy gave Giles a million candle power smile, “I knew you’d come round to my way of thinking,” she watched as Giles sat down again, “I’ll talk to Kennedy this evening at Dawnie’s party,” she caught the look on Giles’ face, “and yes I’ll be extra careful when I talk to her dad, okay?”

A moment later the sound of a revving motor and gravel hitting the side of the hut where Buffy had her office, distracted her for a moment.

“Ah good!” Buffy smiled, “that’ll be Faith and hopefully Xander.”

“I’ll send them in, shall I?” Giles got up and headed for the door.

“Yes please,” Buffy shuffled some papers on her desk before looking up at Giles once more, “and Giles,” there was that million watt smile again, “thank-you, thank’s for everything.”

0=0=0=0

Moments after Giles had left, Faith burst into Buffy’s office, she crossed the floor to lounge in one of Buffy’s visitor’s chairs. Right behind her came Xander, looking a little white faced from his trip to the camp in Faith’s beat up old military Land Rover. He sat down in the other chair and Buffy thought she could hear a sigh of relief come from his direction.

“Hi ‘B’,” grinned Faith, “what’s the rush?”

“No rush,” replied Buffy as she sorted out a slim file from under the pile on her desk.

“You mean,” Xander gave Buffy a hurt look, “we didn’t need to break every speed limit from here to Middlesbrough?”

“Hey!” Faith sounded defensive, “What d’ya mean ‘every’ speed limit…I slowed down near schools, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, right,” agreed Xander with a curt nod of the head, “so we didn’t kill any kids on our way here…”

“Look,” Faith had stopped sounding defensive and was beginning to sound angry, “if ya don’t like the way I drive y’know what ya can do…”

“Guys!” Buffy brought things to a halt before they turned into a full fledged argument, “Work.”

Suspecting that Faith was still hurting after having Robin Wood walk out on her, Buffy was willing to cut her some slack; but not if she took out her anger and frustration on Xander. He was still mourning Anya in his own quiet way; Buffy wondered whether it had been wise to team these two emotional time-bombs together. She sighed; lack of ‘manpower’ and resources had dictated her decisions. Oh-well, she shook her head tiredly; maybe when things were better she could team them with other people, until then…

“We have a situation,” Buffy passed the file she was holding to Faith who immediately passed it over to Xander, again she sighed. “Hartlepool…”

“Hartlepool?” queried Faith.

“Just up the coast aways,” explained Buffy, “on a clear day…if such a thing exists ‘round here, you could see it from the parking lot.”

“Car park,” corrected Xander absently as he looked through the pages of the file.

“Whatever,” Buffy continued, “it’s not that far away. In fact you could go by bus,” she added hopefully; with money so tight she was looking to cut costs as much as she could.

“Yeah, right,” muttered Faith, she wasn’t bussing it to anywhere. “Only the lame and weird ride the bus.”

“I use the bus,” Buffy replied in a small voice.

“Ha! Yeah, see what I…” Faith was quickly interrupted by Xander.

“Faith’s right, y’know,” Xander closed the file.

“I am?” Faith turned a puzzled frown on Xander before adding, “Cool.”

“Using the bus,” explained Xander, “it’s a false economy. What happens if we miss the last bus home and we have to stay the night?”

“Yeah, I suppose so,” conceded Buffy, “anyway, can you deal?”

“Doesn’t look too difficult,” admitted Xander, “we could do it tonight.”

“Hold-up there,” Faith shifted in her seat, “I gotta check that I can get the night off…”

“You weren’t coming to Dawnie’s party?” Buffy sounded a little hurt.

“Not really my scene, B,” admitted Faith: truth was the idea of spending the evening with a load of high-foreheads wasn’t her idea of fun.

“Okay,” Buffy still sounded a little hurt, “but it needs to be done tonight or tomorrow. No one’s been killed yet but that could change anytime, okay?”

“No worries,” Faith got up and headed for the door.

“Yeah,” Xander climbed to his feet and smiled down at Buffy, “no problem, Buff, I’ll keep you informed, see you.”

Following Faith out of the room Xander left Buffy alone in her little, cold office.

0=0=0=0

After Xander and Faith had left Buffy found herself alone once more, sometimes the pointlessness of it all made her feel like crying. Even when Faith had slayed this monster there’d always be another, then another and another. It just went on and on until one day… Sighing disconsolately she opened the bottom drawer of her desk. There it lay; the bottle of vodka that she kept for those times she needed a good stiff drink; she’d started drinking not long after they’d all arrived in Cleveland. At first it had just been to help her sleep, to wind down after a patrol, but now…well, what would one little drink hurt?

Okay it wasn’t even midday yet, but it was just one drink, right? It’d never hurt her mother so why shouldn’t she? Hardly noticing the eagerness with which her hands grasped the bottle, Buffy unscrewed the top and poured a generous measure into the glass she kept with the bottle. Feeling the vodka burn its way down to her stomach and make her feel pleasantly warm for a change she wiped the glass clean. Putting it and the bottle back into the drawer Buffy took a mint from the jar she kept on her desk and put it in her mouth.

Standing up Buffy wrapped her arms around herself as she tried to warm herself by the fire. Looking around her office she sighed gloomily, she might as well go home. There was nothing to do here, at least in the old chalet where she lived it was warmer and she had a TV there. God, she cursed to herself, reduced to watching British daytime TV; she really hoped there’d be some vamps around tonight so she could vent her frustration on them.

0=0=0=0

“What’ve we got Harris?” Faith watched as Xander climbed into the Land Rover and buckled up.

“Doesn’t look tooooo!” Xander grabbed hold of the dashboard as Faith floored the accelerator, “Faith!”

“What?”

“Do y’have to do that?” Xander gasped as the acceleration eased off.

“Too much for ya, huh?” Faith grinned broadly as she slowed down for the main road outside the camp.

“No,” breathed Xander, “it’s just that if I have to die I’d rather it be fighting the forces of evil than from being killed in a traffic accident.”

The scary truth was that Faith; in fact all the slayers (with the exception of Buffy) were very safe drivers. For instance, Faith had never been involved in an accident (which was probably just as well because Xander wasn’t sure she had a licence let alone insurgence). Faith and all the other slayers just drove to the limit. He might joke about it but Faith hadn’t actually broken any speed restrictions on their trip up here, it just felt like she had.

“So,” Faith drove out onto the main road and for a wonder kept it down to a sedate thirty miles an hour; she must be getting soft, thought Xander. “What’ve we got?”

“Okay,” Xander found the file Buffy had given him and opened it at the first sheet of typed notes, “looks like a normal haunting…”

“So, what am I supposed to do?” Faith glanced quickly at Xander, “Ya can’t punch ghosts.”

“Or, if you’d let me finish,” Xander replied teasingly, “it could be a demon…”

“Hey, that sounds like more fun,” Faith had increased speed to about fifty now, still fairly tame for her; she normally took the twisting, narrow road at seventy.

“Yeah,” agreed Xander as his eye slid over the page, “it all goes back to the Napoleonic Wars…”

“The which?”

“Napoleonic Wars,” Xander explained, “fought between England and France over a hundred years ago…”

“Cool,” Faith smiled, “the French lost, right?”

“Yep they lost,” Xander turned his head to look at Faith, “I’m trying to explain stuff, could you keep all your questions ‘til after I’ve finished.”

“Okay, Rupert, don’t get ya panties in a bunch,” Faith allowed herself a small smirk.

“Yeah, right,” Xander turned back to his file, “where was I? Napoleonic wars…right. Okay, early in the century a French ship foundered on the coast near Hartlepool. The only survivor was the Captain's pet monkey. He was picked up by some local fishermen and taken back to Hartlepool. Now this is where it gets weird.”

“Gets weird?” Faith laughed, “The whole damn country’s weird.”

“Okay,” admitted Xander, “weirder. It seems like because the monkey was dressed in a French naval uniform, the fisherman said he was a spy. They gave him a trial then they hung him.”

“THEY WHAT!?” Faith took her eyes off the road for a minute.

“LOOK OUT!” Xander stopped himself from grabbing the wheel; his warning was enough to stop the collision with the bus that they just missed. “Yeah,” Xander continued once he’d slowed his racing heart, “the fishermen guys might have had an ulterior motive.”

“A what?” Faith slowed to the speed limit, they were on the outskirts of Middlesbrough now.

“Something about if the ship had surviving crew, it was a ‘Prize of War’ and the government would get it,” Xander explained. “If there was no surviving crew, it was salvage and the fishermen would get all the money for it.”

“Oh, I get it,” Faith smiled, “they framed the monkey.”

“Got it,” agreed Xander, “now it looks like the monkey’s out for revenge.”

“We’re here,” Faith brought the Land Rover to a gentle halt.

Looking up Xander found himself in the car park of the ‘Saracen’s Head’ pub where Faith worked as a barmaid.

“What d’ya think I should pack,” Faith turned to face him and grinned, “bananas?”

0=0=0=0


	2. Chapter Two.

2.

**Outside the Saracen’s Head.**

Waiting in the Land Rover, Xander found himself admiring the swing of Faith’s hips as she sauntered into the pub. He blinked his eye rapidly and looked away, once with Faith was enough; also he could never be sure that he wouldn’t end up out in the parking lot clutching his clothes again.

The Saracen’s Head was a typical north country pub which attracted a lot of the local bikers. This was good on several counts; first it meant that Faith’s Land Rover was in tip-top mechanical condition. Anyone who wanted to impress the sexy, hot, American barmaid was ready, willing and able to perform all kinds of maintenance on Faith’s vehicle. Having been bought for the princely some of £256 at a Ministry of Defence auction it’d been in dire need of repair. 

Secondly, the bikers were more than willing to ‘help out’. If that meant getting a slayer to the other end of the country in a hurry there were always volunteers with large powerful motorbikes available and no questions asked. To be honest, Xander couldn’t remember meeting a nicer, more helpful bunch of guys and girls. It seemed that if you were one of Faith’s friends nothing was too much trouble.

Once again, Xander found himself thinking of Faith in a more than ‘just a work colleague’ way. It also reminded him that he’d not been on a date since Anya had died and to be honest he didn’t exactly meet that many eligible young women during the course of his work. Okay, he could take up the almost daily offers of meaningless sex from the lonely housewives he met while he was doing his day job. But he wanted more than ‘meaningless sex’, or so he told himself.

Okay, Faith was out of the question, he started to go through a mental check list of the available women in his life. Buffy; no that was way too complicated and she was sorta his boss. Willow? Very gay now, and he didn’t think he could fight Kennedy for her. Dawn? No, that was right out, that would be like dating the little sister of your best friend…which of course he would be. Vi? Again that would be like dating a friend’s little sister and anyway he thought she’d got a boyfriend. No, it looked like he was heading for a life of celibacy.

“Hey! Harris!”

“Huh! What!?” Xander turned to see Faith looking in through the side window at him.

“Look,” Faith pushed a stray strand of hair out of her eyes and Xander found himself thinking how beautiful she looked, “I can’t get tonight off. But I’ve got tomorrow night off anyway, so why don’t you go to this party tonight and pick me up after closing time?” Faith dug deep into the pocket of her jeans, “Here,” she pulled out the keys for the Land Rover, “you can borrow the ‘Rover but don’t you bust her up.” Tossing him the keys she turned and started back towards the pub, she called over her shoulder to him, “Be here at about eleven-thirty tonight,” she waved and disappeared into the pub.

A little stunned, Xander looked at the keys in his hand. Maybe Faith did like him, she didn’t lend her precious Land Rover to just anyone.

0=0=0=0

Inside the pub, Mrs Townsend, the landlady, watched as Xander drove Faith’s Land Rover out onto the main road.

“Oh, ‘e’s tasty, Faith,” she glanced in Faith’s direction and grinned, “is ‘e your boyfriend then?”

“What!” laughed Faith, “Harris? Nah,” she shook her head, “he’s just someone I work with sometimes, he helps out, y’know?”

“Oh, I thought he looked rather dashing,” Mrs Townsend, a woman in her early forties, turned away from the window, “what with the eye patch an’ that.”

“You want him,” Faith smiled as she started to help restock the bar, “you have him…be my guest!”

0=0=0=0

**Dawn and Vi’s flat warming party later that night.**

“Who’s that?” Buffy whispered urgently in Willow’s ear.

“Who’s who?” Willow sipped on her long cocktail and turned to face Buffy, a puzzled frown on her face.

The party was actually quite fun, normally Willow didn’t function well at parties but she knew almost everyone at this one so she was enjoying herself. Or she would be if Buffy didn’t keep whispering in her ear demanding to know the name and full life history of any male that came within three feet of Dawn.

“There, talking to Dawn,” Buffy gestured with a half full wine glass, some or the dark red liquid slopped out of the glass to splash on the floor.

“That’s Alistair,” sighed Willow, she was getting fed up of this game and couldn’t wait for Kennedy to reappear. “He’s Vi’s boyfriend and no he’s not a vampire and as far as I can tell he’s not a demon either.”

“So why’s she talking to him?” Buffy drank the remaining wine in her glass.

“Because,” Willow was starting to get cross now, “she’s being a good hostess and friend by distracting him while Vi’s out on patrol and Buffy you’re starting to suck all the fun out of this!”

“Sorry,” Buffy mumbled as she stared into her empty glass, “Hey!” she turned to look into Willow’s eyes, “Someone stole my wine! Need more!”

Buffy started to head for the nearest wine bottle, surprisingly, Willow easily held her back.

“I think you’ve had quite enough wine,” Willow started to steer her friend towards an empty chair. “Come on Kennedy,” Willow muttered under her breath, “please hurry up and come back.”

0=0=0=0

**Middlesbrough University Campus.**

Twisting the vampire’s arm up behind his back, Kennedy slammed him head first into a tree. Holding the stunned vamp with one hand she reached around with the other to retrieve the stake she usually carried tucked into her jeans; her hand closed on emptiness.

“Damn it!” she snarled quietly, “STAKE!” she cried and held out her hand.

As if by magic she felt the comforting hardness of a stake being slapped into her hand. Not wasting a second she rammed it into the back of the struggling vamp. Stepping away from the creature she watched as it turned to dust. Tossing the stake up in the air she caught it again and turned to give it back to Vi.

“Thanks,” she smiled, “stupid me, I forgot to pack one.”

“That’s okay,” Vi walked across the small lawn from her own little pile of ash, “keep it, I’ve got plenty.”

Opening the leather jacket she wore, Vi showed off a row of stakes secured by loops to the inside of her coat. Kennedy studied Vi’s set-up with interest, it seemed like a good way of carrying stakes around.

“Dawnie did the stitching,” explained Vi, “and a guy on the woodwork course at school made the stakes; they’re hammer handles.”

“Cool,” admitted Kennedy as she tucked the stake away; the two young women linked arms and continued their walk around the university campus. “So, what’s it like living with Dawn?”

Having had to leave America long before they’d finished High School, both girls were doing a Further Education course run by the university. Hopefully, in a year or two they’d both be able to enrol for a degree course if they so desired. At the moment they were enjoying being free of parental control and not having to work too hard.

“Dawn’s nice,” Vi nodded her head, “not at all bossy like her sister but she’s just as stubborn.”

“Yeah,” Kennedy nodded her head in agreement, “tell me something new.”

The two young women walked along in silence for a moment.

“So,” began Kennedy nonchalantly, “have you and Alistair done ‘it’ yet?”

“Done what?” puzzled Vi looked at Kennedy just as the penny dropped, “OH!” she squeaked, “You mean…no. Not yet…do you think I should…I mean is it time?”

“Not for me to say,” Kennedy admitted, “and remember; I find the whole idea of screwing a guy a bit icky anyway…now if it was you and Dawn…”

“EWW!” Vi pulled away from Kennedy, “I mean…not that I’ve got anything against Dawn, but…”

“She doesn’t rock your boat?” Kennedy raised an eyebrow quizzically.

“No way,” Violet replied emphatically.

“Not even a little?” Kennedy teased. 

“No, no and NO!” Violet slapped Kennedy’s back playfully before linking arms with her again.

“Pity,” sighed Kennedy, she looked at her watch, “Oh well, I think its time we were heading back,” they turned and headed in the direction of Violet and Dawn’s apartment. “I better save Willow from the clutches of Saint Buffy of the Stake.”

Violet giggled at Kennedy’s nickname for Buffy.

“And I,” Violet sighed longingly, “wanna get back to Alistair before Dawn steals him away from me.”

0=0=0=0

**Hartlepool, later that night.**

Pulling into the parking space on Hartlepool High Street, Xander watched the blue flashing lights a little further down the street. There was a couple of police cars and an ambulance parked in the road as a small crowd gathered around and blocked his view of what was going on.

“What’s goin’ on, Harris?” Faith was struggling with her seatbelt and was too pre-occupied to watch.

“Looks like there’s been an accident or something,” Xander unclipped his seat belt and opened the driver’s side door, “come on we better check it out.”

“Hold on!” with a grunt Faith pulled the seatbelt mounting loose from the roll-bar it’d been welded to; free at last she stepped out onto the road.

Joining Xander on the pavement, Faith automatically put her arm through his; they started to walk towards the accident. To anyone watching they looked just like any young couple on there way home after a Friday night out. As they came to the rear of the crowd, Xander could feel the warmth of Faith’s body against his own; he started to feel emotions he’d thought long forgotten start to bubble to the surface of his mind. By the time they got to where they could see, the paramedics were putting a body onto a stretcher and covering it with a blanket.

“Nasty,” Xander commented quietly.

“Unusual way to die,” admitted Faith trying hard to hide her amusement.

“Hey, Faith,” Xander turned to look at her crossly, “death by banana is no joke y’know?”

“I know,” Faith covered her mouth with her hand, “but did you see where…” she cracked-up and hid her face against Xander’s shoulder.

“That’s old Ernie Hepplethwaite, that is!” exclaimed a voice in the crowd as the police started to clear everyone from the pavement and the ambulance drove off.

“I know that name,” whispered Xander, as Faith regained control of herself, “I read it today somewhere.”

“Hey,” Faith was starting to realise the seriousness of what she’d just see, “last I checked ya can’t stab someone with a banana, let alone stick one up his…”

“T’Cop said they were t’frozen t’solid!” muttered a young woman to her friend as they walked past Faith.

“Eee, well go t’foot of our t’stairs, Hilda!” replied her friend as they walked on out of even slayer hearing.

“Well that answers that question,” Faith crossed her arms over her chest as she looked around the rapidly emptying street, it was at this point she realised she was talking to herself. 

“Harris!?” Catching site of Xander by the Rover she hurried over to join him, “Did you hear that?” she called as she got closer, “Guy was stabbed with a deep frozen banana!”

“Good,” distractedly Xander sorted through the file Buffy had given him, “at least now we know it wasn’t a Scotsman.”

“A what?” Faith looked at Xander as if he were mad.

“A Scotsman would have covered the banana in batter and deep fried it,” triumphantly Xander held up the sheet of paper he’d been searching for. “Here!” he smiled, “I knew I knew that name,” he paused waiting for Faith to react; she didn’t so he sighed quietly and continued. “There was a Hepplethwaite connected to the monkey hanging…”

“You don’t think…” Faith ran her eyes over the nearby roof tops.

“The French monkey has come back for his reven-ge!” Xander smiled hopefully waiting for some sort of reaction from Faith, all he got was a…

“Huh?” Faith was seriously doubting Xander’s sanity just at the moment.

“Revenge!” exclaimed Xander, “After all these years its come back to…”

“Yeah I get the picture,” Faith had a thoughtful look on her face, “what was the date of the original hanging?”

“Um let me see,” Xander rifled through the papers he held, “Yeah I’ve got it…November, 1803!”

“Hey, even I can work out that’s almost exactly two hundred years ago,” Faith ran her hand through her hair as she looked up and down the street. “Did anything happen in 1903?”

“Damn-it,” Xander searched through the papers again, “doesn’t say.”

“Okay,” Faith walked around to the rear of the Land Rover, she started to open the canvas tilt. “Are there any more names? All we have to do is get to them before this monkey thing does and slay it.”

“Names, but no addresses,” Xander threw the papers onto the driver’s seat in frustration.

“Okay,” Faith reappeared from the back of the Land Rover clutching a selection of pointy, sharp edged weapons. “We just drive around until we find the bastard…I mean,” she shrugged and dumped the weapons on the front seats, “a monkey in a French sailor suit can’t be that hard to spot around here.”

0=0=0=0

**Willow and Kennedy’s Apartment.**

Snoring loudly, Buffy curled up on Willow and Kennedy’s couch in their front room.

“How much did she have to drink?” Kennedy placed a blanket over Buffy’s sleeping form.

“She musta drunk a whole bottle,” Willow placed a bucket near Buffy’s head, just in case, “it’s not like her to drink so much.” Willow frowned as she looked down at her friend, “She knows she can’t drink…well not that much.”

“Look,” Kennedy came to stand next to Willow, she slipped her arm around her waist, “she’s got a lot to worry about.”

Willow looked at her girlfriend in puzzled surprise.

“Hey,” she smiled, “what have you done with the real Kennedy Scarpone?”

“No, I’m serious,” Kennedy started to steer Willow towards their bedroom, “I realised things must be worse than she was letting on when she asked if my Dad could help.”

“Oh, jeepers, she didn’t, did she?” Willow looked at Kennedy wide-eyed, “Things must be bad…”

“Yeah look,” Kennedy kissed Willow lightly on the lips, “you get into bed I’ll switch off the lights and lock up, okay?”

“Okay,” Willow agreed sleepily as she shuffled off into the bedroom.

Walking over to the kitchen door, Kennedy switched off the light and shut the door. Switching off the living room light, she walked over to the couch to check on Buffy once more; she looked down at the older woman and sighed sadly.

“Hey,” she said softly, “you might be a pain in my ass but…but you care.” Shaking her head Kennedy pulled the blanket up to cover Buffy’s shoulder, “You worry about everyone and everything and you do your best, so, I think you’re entitled to drink yourself silly every once in a while. Tomorrow, it’ll all still be there; same crap, different day.”

Buffy shifted in her sleep.

“And if by chance you remember anything I’ve said,” Kennedy told Buffy’s sleeping form, “I’ll deny every word!”

Turning, Kennedy headed for her bed and Willow leaving Buffy to sleep it off. As the bedroom door closed leaving Buffy alone on the couch, she whimpered quietly as she dreamed of monsters and demons.

0=0=0=0


	3. Chapter 3

3.

**Hartlepool.**

“Look!” Xander brought the Land Rover to a sudden halt outside of a solid looking, Victorian public building.

“What? Where?” Faith turned her head left and right trying to work out what had got Xander so excited, “Did you see it?”

They’d been driving around Hartlepool for half an hour and so far there had been no sign of any murderous monkeys, in or out of uniform.

“No, but look,” Xander indicated the grey forbidding stone building.

“Yeah? What about it?” Faith craned her neck to see around Xander.

“Public Library, Faith,” Xander explained stating the obvious.

“So,” Faith shrugged her shoulders, “you think this French monkey guy will stop off for a book or something?”

“No,” Xander shook his head tiredly, “at least I don’t think so…I don’t suppose he reads English.” Xander thought about this for a second before adding, “Look, there’s probably records in there, old newspapers that sorta stuff.”

“You think it might come and read the old newspapers?” Faith frowned.

“NO!” Xander replied an exasperated edge to his voice.

Laughing, Faith rested her hand on Xander’s shoulder.

“Hey,” she grinned, “I’m only teasing,” she went on more seriously. “Y’think we could maybe find out who monkey-guy might be after?”

“Yeah,” Xander nodded his head.

“Only one problem with that,” Faith pointed at the building, “it’s closed.”

“Thought of that,” Xander turned in his seat and searched about in the cargo area for just a moment; seconds later he held up a tool bag triumphantly and smiled, “Breaking and entering tools!”

“Jeez,” sighed Faith as she shook her head in despair, somehow she just knew this wasn’t going to end well

0=0=0=0

Taking his Whippet, Martha for a late night walk, Fred Grimsdyke walked briskly along Mahatma Gandhi Drive before turning into Karl Marx Street. He tutted as he walked by the street sign; ever since the Socialists had got control of the local council they’d been changing all the street names. Stopping to light a cigarette, Fred turned his head to look back the way he’d come. He was almost sure he’d seen something behind him.

“Bloody kids,” he muttered staring into the night; “should be at ‘ome in bed be’now.”

Turning to continue his walk he suddenly found himself confronted by a large ape dressed in a nineteenth century French naval uniform clutching a bunch of gentle steaming bananas.

“Oh bloody ‘ell!” gasped Fred as he started to back away from the apparition.

“ **OOOK!** ” said the monkey as it advanced on Fred; it lifted a banana in its hand as if it was going to stab him with it.

With remarkable presence of mind (most people would have just stood there, frozen with fear) Fred turned and ran. He let go of Martha’s lead and the dog shot off at high speed, braking wildly as it disappeared into Joseph Stalin Avenue. Running as hard as he could, Fred pounded along the pavement until he saw a telephone box on the corner of the street.

Crossing the street with the banana wielding monkey in hot pursuit, he threw himself at the telephone box, Fred dragged open the door and collapsed inside. The monkey came to a halt outside the box seemingly confused by not being able to get at its quarry. It pounded on the small glass panes with its fists. When that didn’t gain it access it grabbed hold of the box and started to try and rip it out of the ground. Inside the box, Fred grasped for the receiver. With trembling hands he lifted the phone to his ear and dialled nine-nine-nine. The operator answered almost immediately and asked which service he required.

“There’s a giant French sailor monkey trying to kill me!” gasped Fred to the bewildered operator.

“Do you want the RSPCA?” replied the perplexed operator thinking this might be a prank call.

“NO! NO!” screamed Fred as the monkey heaved the box from side to side, “SEND THE POL…!”

The operator heard glass breaking then the most awful screams that would haunt her dreams for months to come. After a moment or two the screams stopped and she heard the sound of crunching footsteps on broken glass.

“ **OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOK!** ” the sound was like a cry of triumph which froze the blood in the operator’s vanes.

0=0=0=0

**Hartlepool Public Library.**

“Here, let me,” Faith, fed up with watching Xander trying to jemmy open the back door to the library, snatched the crowbar out of his hands.

Ramming the end between the door and the door frame, she heaved. There was the sound of splintering wood and a moment later the door swung open.

“Yeah, well,” Xander announced defensively, “I was going to try that approach next.”

“Whatever,” Faith sighed and walked into the pitch dark library, “where are all the books?”

Pulling a flashlight from his bag, Xander switched it on and followed Faith into the darkened room.

“It’s an office, Faith,” he pointed out, “the books must be through there,” he shone the flashlight towards another door, “anyway, we’re looking for the archives.”

“Hey! Put that flashlight out!” snapped Faith sounding a little like a World War Two air raid warden.

“Torch,” Xander corrected, “anyway we’re alright here, no one can see us from the road.”

A few minutes searching found a door marked ‘Archives’, it was locked.

“Faith?” Xander pointed at the door, “It’s locked.”

Walking over to Xander, Faith gave him a hard look.

“I’m more than just a breaking down doors machine, ya know?” she told him sulkily.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll make it up to you later,” Xander stood to one side to let Faith get at the door.

“Ya will?” Faith contrived to look like a naughty schoolgirl, “What will ya get me?”

“I’ll buy you some candy, or something,” Xander shrugged, “now just open the door.”

“Gee,” Faith raised a foot and kicked, the door burst open, “thanks!”

“No problemo!” Xander waltzed passed Faith and disappeared into the darkness of the archives.

0=0=0=0

**The corner of ‘Joseph Stalin Avenue’, Hartlepool.**

“Another one,” announced Detective Constable Head as Detective Inspector Higgins came over to look at the crime scene.

“And ‘good evening’ to you too, lad,” Higgins, a middle aged man with more than twenty years on the force, squatted down next to the body. “Anyone see anything?”

“No, Boss,” Head consulted his note book, “everyone was in bed. Some people in the houses close by heard some stuff but just thought it was kids mucking about.”

“No one phoned anything in?” Higgins stood up with a slight groan.

“No sir,” Head sounded embarrassed.

“Not your fault, lad,” replied Higgins; he knew exactly why people didn’t phone in minor stuff like vandalism..

After the tenth time of being told that, ‘there were no resources to investigate your complaint’; people just stopped bothering phoning the police. Shaking his head sadly Higgins walked around the body and this is what you get. When a serious crime happened no one called it in and no one saw anything.

“What do we know?” Higgins asked tiredly.

“Call to the emergency operator came through just after one, boss.” Head read from his notes, “Area car got here within five minutes and cordoned off the area.”

Looking at his watch Higgins saw it was now one-thirty, just under an hour between murders. This probably meant that they had about thirty minutes to wait before they found out if they had a serial killer on their hands. Shaking his head, Higgins looked over at the remains of the telephone box. It had been ripped from the pavement and smashed to pieces. It must have taken something incredibly strong to do something like that.

His heart started to sink and the acid in his stomach started to churn; nothing human could have done that. He already knew that he’d not solve this case, after more than twenty years in the Cleveland Constabulary he knew this was going to be another of those weird cases that got swept under the carpet and forgotten about. After all who else but demons and monsters would use deep frozen bananas as murder weapons?

0=0=0=0

**Hartlepool Public Library.**

“Here we are!” Xander looked intently at the screen of the micro-film reader as a page of the Hartlepool Herald swam into focus.

“Thank fuck for that!” Faith had become bored after about five minutes of research; there were no vampires to dust and no monsters to kill. Looking through endless roles of micro film just hurt her eyes.

“Here, 1803, lets see now,” Xander’s eye scanned across the page, he made the occasional note while Faith hovered impatiently by his shoulder.

“Come on, Harris,” pleaded Faith, “I could be partying now instead of sitting in this dump.”

“Okay, okay,” Xander straightened up and turned to face Faith, “Look, there were five fishermen involved in hanging the monkey. I’ve got their names now and…”

“All you have to do is find out where there modern relatives live,” Faith had unwittingly seen the flaw in Harris’ plan.

This wasn’t a film were the information you needed to crack the case was available at the touch of a button. This was a public library where they’d not bothered putting the oldest records on a computer. Xander had no idea were to start, this was a different country to the one he grew up in; they called things by different names here. They had different sets of information, it was all too much for him.

“Damn-it!” he hit the desk with his fist, “if Willow was here she could…”

Doubt entered Xander’s mind, even Willow had admitted to finding it difficult to access information. She was having to use magic more often than not just so she could find out even simple things. The British mania for secrecy didn’t help either.

“So what do we do?” asked Faith, she’d realised the problem before Xander had. “Like how many…” she looked at the screen, “...Grimsdyke’s are there in town? Do we rip out the page of the telephone directory and go through them all like the Terminator did?”

“Crap, crap and more crap!” Xander pushed back his chair angrily and stood up. “Whatever happened to just hitting the books for ten minutes and finding the answers?”

“Come on,” Faith shrugged and headed for the steps out of the basement, “we might as well drive around some more, maybe we’ll get lucky.” Faith smiled at Xander in the dark, “Hey, Harris it’s not your fault, be cool okay?”

Leaving the library, Xander pulled the broken door closed as best he could, he turned to find a bright light being shone into his eye.

“Hello, hello, hello,” said an official sounding voice, “what’s all this then?”

0=0=0=0

**Fossgate Road, Hartlepool.**

Tires squealing, siren blaring and blue lights flashing, the police car almost went up on two wheels as it sped into Fossgate Road. There, halfway down the row of red brick council houses, Higgins could see the pieces of door and window being thrown into the neat little street.

The car screeched to a halt and the two constables in the front opened their doors and leaped from the vehicle. Higgins and Head followed at a more sedate pace more fitting for members of the Cleveland CID. As the two, young, uniformed coppers skidded into the garden of number twenty-seven Fossgate Road; whatever had been trying to demolish the house stopped and vanished into the night. Walking into the house’s little front garden, Higgins noted the torn up flower beds and smashed up garden gnomes. The front windows had been smashed in and the front door was half off its hinges.

“What are you waiting for?” called Higgins to the two uniformed officers, “Get in there and find out if anyone’s been hurt.

Drawing their side handled batons and tear gas sprays the two uniforms bundled through the ruined front door. Glancing around Higgins noticed the neighbours starting to crowd around the garden gate as they tried to see what was going on. Just then a Transit van full of uniformed constables arrived with a squeal of brakes.

“Head, lad,” Higgins called to his assistant, “have the uniforms keep those people back, then you start taking names and addresses, we’ll want statements off everyone.”

“Right boss!” Head moved towards the crowd and started to direct the uniforms as they moved people back and began to cordon off the area.

Walking towards the house, Higgins came face to face with the two uniforms as they helped a middle aged couple towards the door.

“Mr and Mrs Hart, sir,” announced the older looking constable, “they were in bed when something attacked the house.”

The officer looked around uneasily as if expecting whatever it was to reappear.

“When did this start?” demanded Higgins.

“About five or ten minutes ago, sir,” replied the officer.

“Alright,” Higgins rubbed his chin in thought, “better get Mr and Mrs Hart down to A&E, then get them to the station.”

“Right you are, sir,” the two uniforms started to usher the frightened couple towards the waiting police vehicles.

Tagging along behind them, Higgins soon found himself out in the front garden again. Head had had the crowd pushed back to the other side of the road where he and a couple of uniforms were noting down witness statements. The other officers had set up a taped perimeter and seemed to have everything under control.

As he crossed the road to talk to Head, Higgins was stopped in his tracks by a woman’s scream. Cries of alarm came from the crowd while some pointed and others ran for their lives. Turning, Higgins looked up at number twenty-seven; there on the roof stood a giant monkey dressed in a French Napoleonic sailor’s uniform. It waved a bunch of bananas over its head as it stood on the roof of the house.

“Oh! Bloody hell!” gasped Higgins.

He recognised the monkey as being one of those cute little creatures that were usually employed by organ-grinders in days of old. The only problem was this one was about a hundred times bigger than it should be; it had to be a good eight or nine feet tall! It jumped down into the garden where it stood for a moment looking around, seeing what it was looking for it started to move towards the police car that Higgins had arrived in.

“ **OOOOK!** ” it roared as it jumped onto the car almost crushing the roof, it started to tear at the car trying to get at the terrified Harts’ who’d been put in the car prior to transfer to A&E.

“QUICK!” Higgins, drew his telescopic baton from under his raincoat and ran towards the car; he could hear the sound of policemen’s boots on the road as they joined the inspector in trying to apprehend the monkey.

The monkey swept away any opposition with contemptuous ease; Higgins found himself thrown through a garden hedge. He came to rest against the wall of a house only missing being impaled on a gnome’s fishing rod by mere inches. Standing up unsteadily, he looked around. There was no sign of the monster monkey, however, lying amongst the litter of semi conscious police officers was Mr Hart, pinned to the road with a banana through his heart.

“Shit, crap and corruption,” swore Higgins as he staggered to his feet; he saw a uniformed sergeant who had just arrived in a patrol car. “Sergeant,” he called the man over, “Get on your radio, I want armed response teams and every copper that can walk out on the streets. I want Hartlepool sealed off, wake up the Chief Constable if you have to but I’m going to catch this bastard!”

0=0=0=0

Standing over the sleeping forms of the two constables, Faith grinned impishly at Xander.

“You know, assaulting a police officer is a serious crime?” Xander informed her.

“Whatever,” replied Faith lightly, she bent and took something from the nearest policeman’s uniform.

“What’s that?” Xander squinted in the darkness.

“Police radio,” Faith informed him, “now we can hear what the police are saying…maybe we can stop this thing before it kills again!”

0=0=0=0


	4. Chapter 4

4.

**Somewhere in Hartlepool.**

“Control to Zed-Victor-one,” the radio clicked on in Faith’s hand; there was an unintelligible reply to ‘control’s’ call from Zed-Victor-One.

“Zed-Victor-One, go to the junction of York Road and Elwick Road,” the woman at control spoke calmly over the radio, “possible sighting of the escaped ape, over.”

Once again the reply from Zed-Victor-One was unintelligible; the police had put out the story that there was a dangerous animal on the loose in Hartlepool. They'd called in armed response units from all over north-eastern England to help track it down.

“Go down this street,” Faith ordered as Xander drove the Land Rover through the backstreets, “then turn left then first right. That’ll bring us out on Elwick Road just down from the junction.”

Putting his foot down Xander followed Faith’s directions.

“How come you know where to go?” he asked as he turned the vehicle into the first street.

“Hey,” Faith replied as she peered out of the windscreen and up at the darkened roofs, “I know my way around…I’ve been here once or twice, okay?”

“You never said,” Xander glanced at Faith for a second before making the next turn.

“I don’t tell you everything, Harris,” Faith shot him a glance; “I have other interests outside slaying and work y’know…here we go!”

Bringing the Land Rover to a halt, Xander switched off the engine and looked out of the windscreen to where the two roads met. A police car, probably Zed-Victor-One, was stopped diagonally across the junction with its doors wide open and its blue lights flashing. On the road lay the two firearms officers who'd crewed the vehicle; from where Xander sat they looked unconscious. Around them on the road surface lay dozens of steaming bananas.

“What should we…” began Xander, but he was cut off by the sound of Faith’s door opening as she climbed out into the road.

“See what you can do for the cops,” Faith ordered, the next moment she was gone.

0=0=0=0

Moving silently from shadow to shadow, Faith scanned the rooftops of the buildings that lined the road. Even her slayer enhanced eyes found it difficult to see past the glare of the streetlights. Just as she was beginning to think the trail had gone cold she noticed something move up on the roof of a street corner newsagent. Immediately she went into a crouch and started to hunt.

Running swiftly and silently across the road, Faith saw the giant monkey start to rip the tiles free from the roof of the newsagents. Realising that this must be the home of one of the monkey’s prospective victims she changed direction towards the shop. Sprinting towards the door she noticed the monkey had vanished; it must have ripped a large enough hole for it to enter the building.

Crashing through the door, just as the monkey broke in through the roof, Faith found herself in the shop part of the building. Over the sound of the burglar alarm going off, she could hear the monkey smashing his way through the ceiling and into the living quarters upstairs. Looking around she saw the stairs leading up from the back of the shop to the flat above.

Taking the steps three at a time Faith soon found herself on the landing at the top of the stairs. Dangling from the ceiling above her was the monkey’s legs as it tried to free itself from the narrow gap between the joists. Just then a door burst open and a man stumbled out onto the landing. He was dressed in blue and white striped pyjamas and clutched a cricket bat in his hands. He cried in alarm as he came face to face with the monkey’s trouser clad lower half.

“GET BACK!” yelled Faith as she jumped up and grabbed the monkey around the waist.

The added weight of Faith hanging around its hips forced the monkey through the hole to join everyone on the landing. The man with the bat screamed and rushed back into his bedroom slamming the door behind him as he went. Faith scrambled to her feet and aimed a vicious side-kick at the monkey’s head. Her booted foot made solid contact with the monkey’s jaw, however, it didn't seem to slow the creature down.

“OOOK!” the monkey shook his head to clear it before it picked Faith up and hurled her through the door and into the shopkeeper’s bedroom.

Crashing to a halt amongst the splintered remains of the door, Faith once more got to her feet to confront the monkey. The shopkeeper showing more bravery than good sense leaped across the bed (where his wife lay screaming) and swung his bat and caught Faith a resounding *THWACK!* across the shoulders, luckily he'd hit her with the flat of the bat, this had only injured Faith’s dignity.

“HEY!” Faith turned on the shopkeeper, “I’M ON YOUR FREAKING SIDE!”

“Sorry, lass!” the shopkeeper swung his bat again, this time aiming for the monkey.

The creature for its part simply caught the bat in its ham sized fist and yanked it from the storekeepers grasp. It jumped up on the bed eliciting more screams from the shopkeeper’s wife, he snarled menacingly at the newsagent. The man backed away from the monster before him frantically looking around for some sort of weapon.

Although slightly stunned by the cricket bat attack, Faith launched herself at the monkey again. She tackled it around the waist, the force of her charge driving it off the bed and onto the floor on the far side of the room. Lifting her fist she aimed a punch at the creature’s head when a vase exploded against the wall by her head.

“WILL YOU GIVE IT UP!” she yelled at the shopkeeper as he heaved another china knick-knack in her direction.

Taking advantage of the distracted slayer the monkey broke free of her hold and jumped towards his primary target. His jump was brought up short and his fingers grasped ineffectually at the shopkeeper as Faith grabbed a-hold of his foot and pulled him back towards her. The monkey kicked out with his free foot but only caught Faith a glancing blow on the hip.

Jumping onto the creature, Faith landed astride its chest pinning its arms down by its side. Raining blows to its head and upper body; Faith saw, much to her disgust and confusion, that she didn’t appear to be having much effect on the murderous monkey monster. This was so wrong, she thought, even a vampire would be near beaten to a pulp by now. Yet this French sailor monkey seemed as fresh as a daisy!

Pausing in her assault, Faith found herself once again sailing through the air only stopping when she hit the wall above the dressing table; she crashed onto the table scattering make up and hair brushes onto the floor. The storekeeper renewed his pottery barrage scoring several good hits but having even less effect than Faith’s attacks had.

This was getting so old, Faith told herself as she climbed once more to her feet, she had things to do on Saturday afternoon and this was cutting into her well earned beauty sleep. Okay, she reasoned, this thing must have a weakness but could she find it before it wounded her so much that she couldn’t stop it. Once again, Faith bravely hurled herself at her opponent. This time she didn’t try to kill or wound it, she clawed at its clothes hoping to uncover any charm or talisman that might be protecting it.

The monkey appeared to sense the reason behind Faith’s latest attack; it tried madly to fight off Faith’s probing fingers. Knocking her hands aside the monkey didn’t notice it was being backed into a corner, by the time it did it was too late. Faith aimed a ferocious kick at the creature’s shin. Her steel toe-capped boot made contact and the monkey screamed with pain and hoped about the on its one good leg while it grasped the other in both its hands. As it leant forward a shinny object on a silver chain swung free from under its ripped and torn shirt. As quick as lightning, Faith’s hand shot out, grabbed the trinket and ripped it from around the creature’s neck. For a moment the monkey looked in confusion at Faith…just before he picked her up and threw her across the room…again.

Shaking her head to clear it of the stars and small blue birds that appeared to have taken up residence inside her skull; Faith fought clear of the clothes and splintered wood of the wardrobe that had broken her fall. Pulling a heavy overcoat from off her head she looked up to see the monkey holding the shopkeeper against the wall with one hand while in the other it held a large, viciously sharp looking banana.

“NO!” yelled Faith as she fought her way clear of the clothes and wrecked closet.

Launching herself across the room she caught the monkey around the waist and knocked him off his feet. Slayer and monkey fell in a struggling heap on the floor of the bedroom while the storekeeper staggered back to his feet from where he’d been thrown. Rolling across the floor, Faith and the monkey exchanged blows only this time Faith’s punches seemed to be having some effect. The monkey ‘EEEK!-ed’ loudly as Faith landed a blow to the side of his jaw. The creature scrambled away from her as it rubbed its face and climbed back to its feet.

“Got ya now!” Faith smirked as she moved in for the kill, “Lost y’magic trinket have ya?”

Holding up the talisman, Faith hoped the monkey would make a grab for it, obviously the pendant protected it from harm. Without it he was vulnerable; the monkey turned its head as the sound of police sirens got closer and closer, it looked quickly at Faith before it ripped down the curtains and leapt out of the window.

“Hey,” Faith turned to where the shopkeeper lay nursing his many injuries; she gestured apologetically to the wrecked bedroom, “I think it’s safe now,” Faith went to look out the smashed window, she could see police lights flashing in the distance, “Sorry I gotta go,” she put her foot on the windowsill making ready to jump out of the window and follow the monkey.

“But…but what do we tell the police, lass?” the shopkeeper had found his voice again.

“Anything you want,” Faith called from the window, “just don’t mention me.”

“Of course not lass,” the shopkeeper nodded his head, “mums the word, eh?”

“Right on,” Faith waved to the shopkeeper and his wife just before she disappeared through the hole in the window and the first police car screeched to a halt outside.

0=0=0=0

Stumbling a little as she landed, Faith looked around for any sign of the monstrous monkey. Seeing it knuckle its way into a side street, Faith was just about to give chase when a police car squealed to a halt in front of her. Hardly breaking step, she jumped up on to the bonnet of the car and using it as a springboard ran off after the monkey.

0=0=0=0

“AAAAGH!” Xander screamed like a girl as he was almost knocked flying by the speeding simian.

After doing what he could to make the two police officers comfortable, Xander had jumped back into the Rover and backed it into a side street. Here he waited for Faith to reappear. With increasing apprehension he’d watched as more and more police cars and vans turned up. To Xander it looked like every policeman in northern England was heading towards the road junction. Just as he was recovering from his narrow squeak with the creature he was almost knocked flying as Faith sprinted around the corner. Wrenching open the passenger door she pointed down the street.

“Follow that monkey,” Faith ordered as she climbed into the Land Rover; moments later they were speeding around the backstreets in hot pursuit with most of the Cleveland police on their tail.

0=0=0=0

“Down here!” Faith pointed to yet another backstreet, “looks like its heading for the townhall.” 

Glancing out of the back of the Rover she saw the flashing blue lights of the police as they followed her in their wild career through Hartlepool.

“Can’t you go any faster?” Faith turned to check on the monkey’s position as it headed down the centre of the road at high speed, “I really don’t wanna explain this to the local cops.”

“I’m not overly excited about explaining this to any cops!” Xander hauled on the steering wheel making the Rover go up on two wheels as they sped around a corner.

Finding themselves in a square or market place, Faith and Xander looked up at the imposing Victorian bulk of Hartlepool townhall. There, caught in the glare of spot lights as it climbed up the front of the building, was the monkey.

“Oh no,” sighed Xander despairingly, “not another ‘King Kong’ cliché?”

The Land Rover screeched to a halt; Faith leapt out but stopped to speak to Xander before she gave chase.

“Its okay for you,” she glanced up to where the monkey climbed, “you don’t have to climb up there after him. Now get outta here before the cops come, meet me ‘round the back when it’s all over.”

Slamming the passenger door, Faith sprinted towards the townhall as the first of the police cars screamed into the square.

0=0=0=0

“THERE!” cried DI Higgins as he pointed up to the climbing monkey.

A police Land Rover shone its spot lights up at the townhall as members of the Regional Support Group ran to take up positions, clutching their MP5’s and looking more like science fiction stormtroopers than traditional police officers. There in the light from the spotlights the police plainly saw the monkey as it climbed towards the townhall roof. Behind it they could also see a dark haired young woman in jeans and leather jacket climbing up wall after him.

“Who the hell’s that!?” DI Higgins turned to DC Head as if expecting him to have the answer, Head shrugged his shoulder; Higgins turned back to look at the townhall. “Whoever she is,” muttered Higgins, “I hope she’s not one of these eco-freaks!”

0=0=0=0

The monkey turned menacingly and bared its teeth at Faith as she climbed up onto the roof. Glancing at the great yellow tombstone like teeth, Faith stood up and started to advance on the creature unafraid.

“Nowhere else to run, huh?” she told the creature as she slowly got closer and closer.

The monkey, perhaps sensing that it was trapped, looked over the edge of the roof. It saw the flashing lights of all the police cars in the square below. It saw the men with guns as they dashed about below him taking up position to get a clear shot at him. The monkey must have known it was doomed as it turned to face Faith once again.

It screamed in a mixture or fear and rage as it turned to find Faith’s grinning face mere inches from its own. Striking the creature across the jaw, Faith sent it staggering across the roof; it stumbled to a halt and grabbed hold of the flagpole in the middle of the town hall roof to steady itself. Not giving the creature a chance to recover, Faith was on it in an instant; she rained punches and kicks on the creature. Frantically it tried to fight back, but without its talisman it was vulnerable to Faith’s attacks.

Having beaten the creature to its knees, Faith was eager to bring the fight to a swift and decisive end; but she’d brought no weapons; she knew the police would be making their way up through the building, they’d be here any moment now! Seizing the only weapon available to her, Faith grabbed the rope from the flagpole and wrapped it firmly around the monkey’s neck before heaving on the free end.

The monkey struggled as Faith raised it up the flagpole and tied off the rope, watching for a moment as the monkey’s struggles grew weaker as the life was choked out of it, she turned towards the edge of the roof. Climbing over the side of the building just as the police SWAT team burst out onto the roof, Faith watched as the police riddled the hanging monkey with bullets. Climbing down the side of the building furthest away from the police spot lights, Faith eventually gained the ground and went in search of Xander.

0=0=0=0

Waiting anxiously in the Land Rover, Xander nearly jumped out of his skin (again) as the passenger door was pulled roughly open.

“Here,” Faith tossed the talisman to Xander; he fumbled the catch due to his lack of depth perception. “You better let Red have a look at that,” Faith yawned, “now take me home to my bed. I’ll fill you in on the way back.”

“Yes, mi’lady,” replied Xander in his best ‘Parker’ voice.

0=0=0=0


	5. Chapter 5

5.

**Saturday morning.**

Waking up in a strange room, Buffy stiffened ready to fight for her life. Slowly the memories of the previous night returned to her alcohol befuddled mind. Dawn’s party, too many glasses of cheap red wine, Kennedy picking her up, Willow tucking her in; it was all coming back to her.

“Oh god!” she groaned as she raised her hand to her forehead; it felt like there were a team of tiny demons inside her head hitting her skull with hammers.

Pushing back the blanket that had been placed over her, Buffy found someone had stripped her down to her underwear and then put an oversized t-shirt on her. Frantically Buffy searched her throbbing head for any memory of guys. None surfaced, after-all what would a guy be doing in the apartment belonging to two lesbians…unless it was Andrew of course. No, Buffy sighed with relief, Andrew was in China where hopefully he’d be arrested by the authorities and thrown into jail…the guy was a pervert!

Sitting up, Buffy groaned again and felt slightly sick, she tried to remember if she’d said or done anything that would stop Dawn from wanting to see or speak to her again. Nothing sprang to mind, although it was very difficult to think; the demons in her head were using bigger hammers and had redoubled their efforts trying to reduce her brain to jello.

So, why was she at Willow’s apartment? Why wasn’t she sleeping on Dawn’s couch? The answer came to Buffy in a blinding flash of pain…Dawn was in bed with a boy and hadn’t wanted her sister around to spoil things! Standing up, Buffy suddenly felt very sick, she swayed and sat down again. Those pesky demons were now using pneumatic drills in her head, moving quickly was _so_ not a good idea. Deciding that Dawn’s sexual indiscretions could wait, Buffy made her way slowly and carefully towards the bathroom.

0=0=0=0

After finding that some evil minded bastard had coated her tongue with yellow fur, Buffy made her way into the kitchen. She flinched as she opened the door; the blinds were open and daylight poured into the room making her eyes water. Stumbling around she found that some kind hearted soil had set up the percolator so all she had to do was switch it on. Buffy sat down and watched as the percolator worked its magic and the demons in her head made one final effort to finish off her brain.

After what felt like an eternity the coffee was ready, she found a mug and poured. The first sip of the strong, black brew blasted the cobwebs from her mind and drowned the demons and their drills. Feeling marginally better, Buffy shuffled back into the lounge and sat back down on the couch; she pulled the blanket around her and started to wonder where her clothes were. It was then she heard it, the sound of passionate moaning and groaning coming from behind the bedroom door.

“Christ,” Buffy whispered to herself, “don’t those two ever stop?”

It had been bad enough back in Sunnydale with Tara and Willow just the other side of the wall. But the short time she’d lived in the same house as Willow and Kennedy…they were at it morning, noon and night! Buffy wondered where they got the energy…well, she knew where Kennedy got it, but Willow? Switching on the TV in the corner of the room, Buffy hoped to drown out the climax of the performance. Finding the remote she turned to a news channel and sat back to watch.

“Gorilla rampage in Hartlepool,” announced the news anchor as he stared out of the TV screen directly at Buffy.

Feeling as if the TV guy could actually see her, Buffy pulled the blanket up around her chin before settling back to see what was what. After all Hartlepool was only just up the coast and…

“OH MY GOD!” shrieked Buffy almost spilling her coffee, “Faith! Xander!”

The anchor was explaining how a gorilla had escaped from a local Safari Park and had gone on a rampage through Hartlepool. It had killed several people and had caused serious damage to several houses before the police had cornered it on the roof of the local townhall. Watching the report, Buffy prayed that she wouldn’t see Faith or Xander being led away by the local police.

“Then,” continued the anchor, “in a final strange twist to an already strange night a young woman was spotted climbing up to the roof where the ape was cornered.”

The picture cut away from the anchor to some unsteadily shot pictures of the town hall surrounded by police. Buffy watched in horrified fascination as she saw Faith climb up the side of the town hall and disappear.

“At first,” explained the anchor, “the mystery woman was thought to be an animal rights activist. However, when the police finally secured the rooftop they found the ape hanging by the neck from the town hall flagpole…”

Pulling the blanket up over her head, Buffy let the anchor’s voice fade into the background and instead concentrated on the sounds coming from the bedroom. At least Willow and Kennedy sounded as if they were having fun. Buffy sighed heavily, maybe she should try the whole ‘lesbian thing’ out; she wouldn’t have to listen to the early morning news, she’d be too busy.

0=0=0=0

**Slightly later the same morning**

Cursed with a bladder the size of a walnut, Dawn stumbled from her room and made it to the bathroom on auto-pilot. Yanking open the door she came face to face with a guy…a handsome guy…in a robe that soooo wasn’t his, coz apart from anything else it was way too small for him.

“EEEP!” said Dawn as she nearly wet herself in surprise; after all it wasn’t everyday she met handsome guys coming out of her bathroom.

“Hi,” said the guy in a British accent; which in itself wasn’t odd seeing how this was Britain and all.

“H-hi,” replied Dawn, she frowned as she tried to remember who the guy was, he smiled at her.

“Excuse me you’re…who?” damn-it-all this was no time to play twenty questions Dawn told herself, and any way she really needed to get in and use the bathroom.

“Alistair,” the guy smiled uncomfortably, that robe was really too small for him…I mean _really_ too small. “Vi’s boyfriend?” he added when he noticed Dawn’s continual frown.

“Oh god! Yes!” Dawn laughed half heartedly, things were starting to get painful and she had an urge to hop from one leg to the other, “I was talking to you last night,” Dawn paused and thought hard about that last statement, “I was, wasn’t I?”

“Yeah,” nodded Alistair, “look I’ll leave you to get on with whatever it was…” his voice petered out, “…look I’ll see you later.”

He squeezed passed Dawn and headed for Vi’s room. Dawn rushed into the bathroom and locked the door behind her. After quickly checking no one was hiding in the shower, she sat down and sighed with relief. Alistair was nice, he was also cute and knowing slayer’s luck probably a demon with plans to lead Vi into hell or something. Dawn frowned, this whole relationship would need careful watching…just in case.

0=0=0=0

**Late Saturday morning.**

Just as he was about to put a load of laundry into his washing machine, Xander heard a knock on his front door.

“Darn!” he muttered.

After the previous night’s excitement, he’d dropped off Faith and her Rover back at the pub where she had a room. He’d called a cab and got home at about three in the morning. He’d slept late and had got up at about eleven-thirty; he’d been hoping to have a quiet day so he could do some chores around his flat. Now it sounded like there was a slayer at the door, only a slayer could make that much noise simply knocking on a door. Slipping on his eye patch he made his way to the door and pulled it open.

“Hi!” Faith smiled up at him, she was dressed warmly against the cold northern winter weather, “Come-on grab ya stuff we’re outta here.”

“What?” Absently Xander reached for the parka that hung next to the door and grabbed his wallet and keys from off the shelf near the doorway.

“Come-on,” Faith took a step away from the door as if to encourage him to move faster, “I got something to show ya.”

Leading him by the hand down to the parking lot outside his apartment block, she opened the passenger door of her battered old Land Rover, jumped in then squirmed across the seat until she was sitting behind the wheel.

“Other doors jammed,” she explained as Xander climbed in next to her.

“Where are we going?” Xander wanted to know as Faith started the engine.

“You’ll see,” Faith smiled mysteriously as the engine started and she drove them out onto the road.

After a fifteen minute drive, during which Faith was unusually tight lipped, Xander found himself outside St George’s Park, the home of Hartlepool’s rugby union team. Faith led him past the ticket office and into the stand, she sat him down and turned to go saying that she’d see him before the match started.

Deciding that this was all very odd, Xander sat down on the plastic seat and wondered what was going on. He liked sports as much as any guy, he supposed, but he couldn’t remember Faith ever showing much interest. Also he wasn’t sure what sport he’d come to watch; he was vaguely aware that rugby was a more violent type of football. He had a memory of Giles mocking the high school football team years before.

He found himself sitting almost on the half way line and about half a dozen rows back from the pitch. To his untutored eye it looked like the perfect place to watch the game. He kept looking around for Faith but he could see no sign of her so he made himself comfortable and read the program that she’d bought for him on the way in.

The game was being played between the ‘Hartlepool Harridans’ and the ‘Halifax Hawks’. It was about at this point that Xander realised that he was going to see a game of Lady’s Rugby Union. A great roar went up from the crowd that made him look up as the home team ran out onto the pitch. His eye was drawn to one figure in particular, her brown curls bobbing as she trotted out onto the pitch; a large number nine on the back of her red and white hoped jersey. The woman turned and smiled as she waved to him from the pitch.

“Oh my god!” he gasped, “Faith!”

0=0=0=0

**Some time later; Harridans 20, Hawks 25, with two minutes to full time.**

Dropping her shoulder, Faith hit the Hawks ‘back’ in the stomach as she tried to run around Faith. The girl went down with a loud *FUCK!* she’d dropped the ball. Reaching out Faith managed to gather it up in her arms and started to head for the touch-line. A Hawk’s ‘forward’ came at her from almost dead ahead. Dummying left, Faith jinked right at the last moment and put on a spurt of speed leaving the Hawk’s girl in confusion behind her.

Sprinting for the line Faith knew she had to score the try. A try would level the score, if they then converted it they’d win and be on their way to the finals in the spring. A girl came at Faith from the left, swapping the ball to her right hand she ‘handed’ the girl off and saw her fall to the ground. However, distracted by the first girl, Faith hadn’t noticed the second girl come in from the right. The Hawks’ girl tackled Faith around the waist but slipped down her body until she was hanging onto Faith’s right leg.

To hell with not using her slayer powers, thought Faith, this was important, so she kept running dragging the Hawk’s girl behind her; she only had five metres to go to cross the line and her team were relying on her. Another Hawks player came out of nowhere and tried to pull Faith to the ground. Faith pushed the second girl to send her stumbling away to crash into another of her team mates. Both girls went down in a muddle of arms, legs and bad language.

Stumbling forward Faith dragged herself and the Hawk, who was still hanging on gamely to her leg, towards the line. With a metre to go Faith launched herself at the line. The Hawks player, who’d been hanging on to her so determinedly, finally let go as Faith literally flew towards the touch-line. 

Landing on her chest with the ball held out in front of her, Faith slid along the wet ground for a couple of yards until she eventually came to a halt. Climbing to her feet she looked around at the referee to see he’d already awarded the try. A second later Faith found herself surrounded by her madly cheering team mates as they jumped up and down and congratulated her. The score was now twenty-five all.

0=0=0=0

“Is that it?” Xander asked the local man standing next to him.

“Nay, lad,” replied the older man; having seen that Xander was a little confused by the working of the game he’d done his best to explain things as the game had progressed.

“Right,” the man glanced up at the timer above the score board, “if the Number Ten can convert the try…

“By kicking it between the posts?” Xander asked.

“That’s it lad,” agreed the man, “there’ll be less than a minute to full time. Then once the ball goes dead…”

“Like when the ball goes out of play, right?”

“That’s it, lad,” the older guy smiled, “we’ll make a rugby fan of you yet. That’s when the game’s over.”

There was a tremendous cheer from the home crowd as the ball sailed easily between the Hawks’ goal posts. Xander and the old guy cheered at the tops of their lungs as the players came back to the centre for the restart. The Hawks tried to ‘tap’ the ball and run it to the Harridans’ line; however they soon lost possession and the ball was kicked into touch, the game was over and the real celebrations could begin.

0=0=0=0


	6. Chapter 6

6.

**Sunday afternoon.**

“You’re kidding!” Buffy grinned disbelievingly across the room at Xander.

The two friends were spending a quiet Sunday afternoon together at Buffy’s chalet on the old holiday camp which was now supposed to be Slayer Central.

“I kid you not,” Xander shook his head, “after eighty minutes of trying to kill each other; they picked themselves up and took turns shaking hands and clapping each other into the dressing rooms. Sadly they didn’t swap shirts, which I’m told is a tradition in these parts.”

“And Faith didn’t kill anyone?” the disbelief was evident in Buffy’s voice, but once again Xander surprised her.

“I thought she was going to a couple of times,” picking up his coffee mug Xander took a sip, grimaced slightly at the cold brew and then carried on with his story. “But, I was assured that it was all part of the game,” he shrugged resignedly, “afterwards, when I met up with Faith and her team mates, that’s when I really got scared.”

“How come?” Buffy wanted to know.

“I’ve never seen women drink so much beer and,” Xander looked around as if checking that he wasn’t being spied upon, “the language…it was never that bad even when I…you remember that summer?”

“Oh…yeah,” Buffy smiled sympathetically, “when you had to…”

Buffy let her words fade, Xander was still uncomfortable about having spent several weeks as a male stripper that summer after High School finished.

“Any how,” Xander continued sounding a little more serious, “I’ve never seen her so relaxed; she said it helped her control her strength and helped with her anger issues.”

“You think its doing her good?” Buffy glanced at the clock over the fireplace, it was nearly time for her to start getting changed; she was meeting Kennedy’s father tonight.

“Yeah,” agreed Xander, “I really think it is.”

0=0=0=0

**Sunday evening, The Great North-eastern Hotel, Middlesbrough.**

Having already had a stiff drink before leaving home, Buffy sipped her sparkling mineral water and looked over the top of her glass to where Anthony Scapone sat. She’d arrived at the Great North-eastern Hotel in Middlesbrough at about eight-thirty. Dressed in her poshest of frocks; she’d been met at the door by both Willow and Kennedy and immediately felt like the poor relation.

Compared to the designer creations the two women were wearing, Buffy looked as if she shopped at Primark. Her feelings of inadequacy were not made any better by both Kennedy and Willow complimenting her on her gown. She’d been led through to a private dinning room where she shook hands with Mr Scarpone. She’d only met the man briefly once, just before the entire slayer organisation had decamped to England.

Scapone was a distinguished man in early middle age; his hair was just showing a little grey around the temples. His immaculately tailored Savile Row suit fitted his six foot frame like a glove. It was only when he spoke that he betrayed his origins, although he hid it well, Buffy’s sharp ears easily picked out the trace of the New York-Italian accent that sometimes shone through his more cultured tones.

After a surprisingly enjoyable meal where they’d chatted about almost everything that wasn’t to do with money of slaying, Willow and Kennedy excused themselves and left the room. After the waiters had cleared the table and left coffee and brandy they left the couple alone.

“I suppose I should feel flattered,” Scarpone poured coffee for himself and Buffy.

“Why’s that Mr Scarpone?” Buffy looked around nervously, she was so unused to this kind of life, she felt more at home at the Double Meat Palace.

“Well,” smiled Scarpone as he sat down opposite Buffy, “those waiters obviously thought I’d brought you here to seduce you,” he laughed quietly, “and me a happily married man…not that the thought hadn’t crossed my mind. If things were,” Scapone paused to consider his words, “let us say different. You are, after all, a very attractive young woman Miss Summers.”

Buffy didn’t know quite what to say so she stayed quiet and sipped her coffee.

“Now I’ve made you feel uncomfortable,” Scarpone shook his head, “I apologise, shall we get down to business?”

“I wish we could,” Buffy put down her cup and studied it for a moment, “I’ll get straight to the point, Mr Scarpone…”

“You should call me, Tony,” smiled Scarpone, “if I can call you Buffy?”

“Sure, why not?” Buffy’s hand touched her face in confusion, “Mr Scarpone, Tony, there’s no easy way of saying this so I’ll just say it, like, straight out and all…”

Tony Scarpone smiled encouragingly.

“To put it bluntly,” Buffy grinned nervously, “and not to beat around the bush and not putting too fine a point on it,” Buffy wondered how she’d come to sound like Giles, “we; as in the slayer organisation are…”

“Broke?” Tony nodded his head, “Was that the word you were looking for?”

“Um, yeah,” Buffy frowned and wished the floor would open up and swallow her.

“I know, Kennedy explained everything to me,” Tony leaned back in his chair and watched Buffy for a long minute, “and apart from everything else I’ve had my people over here look into your…um…problem.”

“You have?” Buffy asked meekly.

“I have,” agreed Tony, “and I’d like to offer you a deal.”

“A deal?” the smallest sliver of hope entered Buffy’s voice.

“As you know, Buffy I’m a business man,” he smiled, no doubt thinking of the millions of dollars he’d made over the years, “and I might say, without being too immodest, I’m a very successful one at that. I have no intention of simply bailing you out.”

“You don’t?” this had been Buffy’s preferred option, some sort of loan to bide them over until they could get hold of the old council’s assets.

“No,” Tony sighed in a satisfied way before continuing, “What I propose is a business arrangement between our two organisations.”

“I don’t know if I…” Buffy stopped talking when Tony lifted his hand.

“Just hear me out first please,” Tony rested his elbows on the table and looked Buffy directly in the eye. “What I intend is this,” Tony started to explain his plan, “The Saltburn site cost you, what? £5 million?”

Buffy nodded her head.

“I’ll buy it off you for six million.” Tony watched to see how Buffy would react.

“That’s…that’s…” Buffy thought it was beyond her wildest dreams, there had to be a catch, “very generous…what’s the catch?”

“HA!” laughed Tony, “Kennedy said you weren’t as stupid as you looked…her words. No the catch is that you rent part of the sight back at say a nominal fee of £1000 per annum.”

“Part?” Buffy asked wearily, she remembered her mother telling her that if something sounded too good to be true; it was probably because it was.

“Yes,” Tony continued to lay out his idea, “from what Kennedy and Willow tell me the actual camp is too big for your purposes. I understand that you bought it because of its remoteness and the ready built facilities. I intend to bulldoze the part of the camp that you don’t want to use and redevelop it.”

“As what?” Buffy had visions of unwanted people sticking their noses into slayer business.

“A couple of warehouses, a couple of offices and maybe a truck park,” Tony smiled disarmingly, “there’d only be a few people on site at any one time and I’d make sure they were based well away from your ‘school’.”

“I-I don’t know…” Buffy thought for a minute, maybe they could make it work, “what’ll these warehouses be used for?”

“Storage,” Tony replied innocently, “I’m expanding my business into Europe. This area has good access by sea to Europe and by road to the rest of the British Isles. It also has the advantage of being out of the way up here…”

“And what,” Buffy’s eyes narrowed, “would you be storing?”

“I’m thinking of getting into the farm machinery trade,” replied Tony nonchalantly, “and maybe pharmaceuticals.”

“Oh!” Buffy smiled brightly, “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“I don’t expect you to make up your mind straight away,” Tony got up and walked around to Buffy’s side of the table, “I’ll have my people draw up a draft agreement and you can look it over with your people,” he held out his hand to Buffy.

Hesitating for only a moment, Buffy finally stood up and grasped Tony’s hand in her own and shook it firmly.

“It’s a pleasure doing business with you, Buffy,” Tony winced a little at Buffy’s grip.

“And with you, Tony,” Buffy replied.

“Now shall we go join, Kennedy and Willow,” Tony gestured towards the door, “nice young woman that Willow, I think she’s good for my girl, don’t you think?”

Buffy smiled non-committaly, before changing the subject.

“Tony,” Buffy studied her clutch bag for a moment, “I’ve always wondered…why ‘Kennedy’? It’s an unusual name for a girl.”

“Promise I made to a business rival,” explained Tony.

“Rival?” Queried Buffy.

“Yeah, just coz you’re rivals doesn’t mean you can’t be friends,” Tony pointed out, “I promised I’d name my first born after him…it was a death bed sorta thing.”

Before Buffy could ask more questions they walked out into the hotel bar where Willow and Kennedy were waiting for them.

0=0=0=0

**Cleveland Police HQ Building, Sunday evening.**

Alone in his office DI Higgins studied the crime figures on his computer screen intently. Something had changed; in the last few months the number of mysterious kidnappings, murders and accidents with kitchen utensils had dropped by a good ten percent. The only thing that wasn’t falling was the number of vehicle thefts and other ‘normal’ crimes.

Sighing and taking a mouthful of cold coffee, Higgins sat back in his chair and stretched his stiff back. Yes, something had changed, but what? He’d spent most of his police career in Cleveland and Middlesbrough. He knew perfectly well that there was something about the area that made the seemingly impossible possible, every police officer had to accept that; if they didn’t they either resigned or transferred out.

So what new element had come to Cleveland in the last, say six months? Staring at the wall, Higgins thought through all the odd things that had happened in the last six months. Things like giant monkeys rampaging through Hartlepool. He remembered something he’d read recently; at the time he’d smiled and thought that it was about time the local yobs picked on the wrong person.

It was a report about an attempted mugging or possible sexual assault. The mugger/rapist had attacked a young woman near the University. Not only had the young woman fought off her assailant, she’d then beaten him so badly that he’d had to be taken to hospital. Higgins, smiled a he searched through the crime reports, after a while he came up with the report. The description of the girl was vague; aged seventeen to eighteen, redish hair, biker jacket and woollen hat; and according to the yob, very, very strong.

Obviously the thug had attacked a girl who was heavily into self-defence. No one had been charged with anything, no one had come forward with any new information. The report had been filed and quickly forgotten about; until now. Tapping on his keyboard, Higgins started a search for similar instances just as his phone rang.

“DI Higgins,” he said absently into the mouth piece, he listened to the voice at the other end of the line for a moment and glanced at his watch. “OH! Bloody hell! Is that the time? Sorry love I got caught up in something.”

It was Mrs Higgins on the line, a patient and understanding woman who taught at the University, she’d been wondering when her husband was coming home.

“I’ll pack up and be home in half an hour, okay?” Getting up. Higgins hung-up the phone and left his computer running; there was nothing that couldn’t wait until tomorrow.

0=0=0=0

**The North Yorkshire Moors, Monday morning.**

It was a bright morning and you could look out over Cleveland almost all the way up to Tyneside. Kennedy stood next to her father as they looked out over the great expanse of north eastern England and the North Sea; they were both wrapped up well against the stiff cold breeze and Tony Scarpone’s limo only stood a few yards away.

“Are you sure you can’t stay a little longer, Daddy?” Kennedy linked her arm through her father’s.

“Sorry pumpkin,” Tony sighed sadly, “business, y’know.”

Nodding her head, Kennedy did know; business came first; always had, always would.

“Y’know,” Tony gestured to the county laid out in front of him, “it amazes me that in such a crowded island there’s still places like this that are…well, wilderness almost.”

“Yeah,” agreed Kennedy, “you better believe it and you should see the things we find living up here.”

“Yes, yes of course,” Tony went quiet for a moment; he’d know about what Kennedy was and what she could be for years, that didn’t mean he liked it.

To him she was still his little girl; when he looked at her he saw his first wife staring back at him. This was no doubt why his second wife, Catherine had insisted that Kennedy be sent away to school. Of course she’d not put it like that, it’d all seemed very reasonable then. But now he could see it all; maybe it had been for the best in the long run; but he’d missed so much, and now…and now she could be dead tomorrow.

“There’s something I’d like for you to do,” Tony turned to look at his daughter, “you’re, what nineteen now?”

“Nearly twenty-one, Dad,” Kennedy reminded him.

“Look,” Tony smiled, “I have enough problems thinking of you as older than twelve, so don’t expect me to remember you’re a grown woman now.”

“So, what do you want you’re big grown up daughter to do for you?” she grinned and joked, “Want someone whacked?”

“Don’t joke about things like that,” her father told her sternly, “no I think its time you took an interest in the family business…”

“But Daddy,” Kennedy managed to stop herself from sounding like a whining thirteen year old, “slayer now, got a mission in life.”

“Don’t worry,” Tony patted his daughter’s hand, “I just want you to be my eyes and ears over here, that’s all.”

“I don’t have to dress in a suit and work in an office?” Kennedy asked suspiciously.

“Only if you want to,” her father explained, he paused for a moment, “and another thing keep an eye on Buffy for me, would you?”

“Why?” Kennedy sounded really suspicious now.

“Oh,” Tony gazed off over the moors, “she’s a business partner now, I like to know what my partners are doing, okay?”

“Okay,” agreed Kennedy, “come on.” She started to pull her father towards the limo, “We can have lunch with Willow before I put you on your plane.”

“Sure,” agreed Tony with a laugh, “and promise me the both of you will come over to stay in the new year, okay?”

“Will Madison be at home?” Kennedy referred to her half-sister.

“No,” sighed her father.

“Then we’ll come!”

The End.


End file.
